


Two Lost Souls (swimming in a fish bowl)

by hernameisboxcar



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Spoilers, emotional hurt!Dean, spoilers for 9.13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 09:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hernameisboxcar/pseuds/hernameisboxcar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is feeling lost and hurt after his and Sam's discussion, Castiel steps in to break Dean's pattern of self-loathing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Lost Souls (swimming in a fish bowl)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tatz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tatz/gifts).



> Inspired by this http://dumplingdean.tumblr.com/post/75669177767/takes-alcohol-away-from-dean-drags-him-into-the  
> and this fanart: https://scontent-b-mia.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc3/t1/1622872_594588990622237_620954885_n.jpg (I don't know who did it, if you do, please tell me so I can credit the artist).  
> It's a birthday gift to my friend Tatz, I hope she likes it.
> 
> Unbeta'ed fic, the mistakes are all my own, just like all the underwear on my bedroom's floor. "Supernatural" doesn't belong to me (because if it did, things would be different by now).

Of course that Sam’s words would mess with Dean’s mind again; why Sam couldn’t see that he had devoted his life to take care of him? That everything he has done, so far, was because he couldn’t stand the idea of losing his brother and failing everything that he was worth for, according with his father?

Dean took another gulp of whiskey, realizing that he had drunk almost the whole bottle after the last argument Sam and him had. Dean sighed, shaking his head and scratching his growing beard. Flashes of his youth came to his mind, he did everything to protect his brother but it wasn’t enough, his efforts weren’t appreciated by Sam. He wanted to cry, but there weren’t tears enough to be shed, only anger, pain and a misplaced feeling that he would be alone.

Frustrated, Dean threw the tumbler he was holding against the wall, grunting.

“Son of a bitch!”

It was aimed to himself, he knew it. His mind was racing, thoughts flooding his brain, John’s voice saying how unworthy and useless he was. “Now I’m crying”, he thought. He looked to the bottle again, reaching for it when he felt a familiar and warm presence in the room, its warmth surrounding him and a hand holding his arm, stopping him from getting the bottle.

“Don’t, Dean.”

Dean’s heart was beating louder, quicker; he wanted to yell at Castiel, tell him to leave him be, to go away because he knew that sooner or later Castiel would leave him - wasn’t it what everyone did to him, didn’t he push everyo...? 

“I won’t go anywhere, Dean and I am certain that you didn’t push me away.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but the grip around his arm got stronger and he felt himself being pulled against Castiel’s warmth, into a hug that he didn’t know he needed so badly. Tears were running through Dean’s face, he was sobbing and all he could think was about Castiel’s words. They stood in the middle of the bunker’s kitchen for several minutes until Castiel moved, getting the abandoned whiskey bottle and throwing its content on the sink.

“You need a shower, Dean.”

“Why? Are you going to babysit me?”

Castiel didn’t answer, he simply put his left arm around Dean’s shoulder and walked the hunter to his bedroom, where he sat Dean by his own bed and looked through the drawers to find something that Dean could wear - grey boxers and an old black t-shirt, the cotton too thin and worn but that seemed to be comfortable enough to sleep. Castiel took his coat and placed it on a chair. He also took his shoes and socks, placing them next to the chair and walked on Dean’s direction, grabbing the clothes he had gotten and petting Dean’s shoulder. This simple touch made Dean duck his head and blush.

No word was exchanged when both men walked to the bathroom; Castiel turned his back to Dean when the other man took off his clothes. He didn’t expect when Dean touched his back and asked, hesitant:

“Join me? I mean...”

Dean couldn’t find words to finish his request, but Castiel seemed to understand it, removing his clothes, folding and putting them on the corner. He kept his boxers on and under Dean’s careful look, stepped inside the shower area, turning the shower on and checking the water temperature. Dean was manhandled into the spray of water, staying there with his eyes closed and unaware of what was going on around him.

There was no Sam, no guilty and no harsh words there.

Dean felt Castiel’s hand turning Dean to face him and then a reverent touch to his face. Dean couldn’t feel worthy of such tenderness and tried to slap Castiel’s hand, who promptly held the hunter’s hand avoiding the slap. Dean only opened his eyes, the water was hiding his tears and he saw Castiel looking at his jaw, hands feeling his beard. Before he could protest, Castiel left the shower and looked for a shaving kit and Dean followed him, uncertain.

“Turn off the water, please.”

Dean did what he was told and returned to Castiel’s side. He felt the angel spread shaving cream on his face and then precise movements with a razorblade. Castiel was careful to shave almost everything from Dean’s beard.

“I missed some spots. Sorry, Dean.”

The hunter looked at his reflection on the mirror and used his hands to feel Castiel’s work - he had missed lots of spots, but Dean wasn’t going to complain.

“Why?”

“I was afraid I could hurt you and...”

“No, Cas, I meant why are you doing it?”

The angel stepped on Dean’s personal space, looking at him while he spoke:

“I know it’s not the same thing but I want you to know that I won’t go anywhere… I have a purpose in this life and it’s to take care of you, Dean.”

There was nothing that Dean could say, he felt Castiel’s right hand on his left shoulder, touching where its mark used to be. Dean felt a jolt of electricity running through his arm and he looked into Castiel’s eyes, seeing things that he always refused to believe that existed for him.

Love.

Compassion.

He threw himself over Castiel, making the angel lose his balance and falling backwards, desperate hands tried to hold onto him but Castiel held them on place, intertwining his fingers with Dean’s and pulling the man onto his lap, their chests touching and moving together, their faces closer to each other, blue eyes studying Dean’s face.

Castiel rubbed their noses before catching Dean’s lips on a chaste kiss.

“Your heart is pure, Dean.”

Dean blushed, he wasn’t used to listen to such things. He was a grunt, he was raised to be a grunt and not to have a pure heart.

“Your soul is bright, Dean.”

A kiss on his forehead, Castiel’s eyes were intense on his. He felt Castiel letting go of his hand to run his own hand over his left arm, hand gripping his shoulder again.

He wanted to look away from Castiel, but he couldn’t. He felt different, adored, cared for, loved. His chest felt constricted, he was grasping for air, tears were running down through his face and his only thought was to seek more of Castiel’s warmth, his limbs hugging Castiel, holding him like an octopus. 

“Shhh… you’re mine, Dean. I can’t conceive the idea of losing you, I won’t let it happen… I love you, Dean.”

There were no words that Dean could use to explain what he was feeling, but everytime he listened to Castiel’s words, he would cling to the angel’s body like he was trying to get inside him, like Castiel was a shelter.

They stayed like that for what seemed hours - Dean was certainly it was - until Castiel tried to get up and it crossed Dean’s mind that, perhaps, angels could feel cramps too. He laughed, Castiel tilted his head as if he could understand Dean’s laugh.

“Nevermind...”

Dean disentangled himself from Castiel, standing up and helping the angel to do the same. He felt Castiel’s fingers caressing his knuckles while he dragged the angel back to the shower, turning it on and pulling Castiel to his body. Their lips met, tentative at first and the Dean deepened the kiss, his tongue running over Castiel’s lower lip, nibbling at it until the other man opened his mouth and allowing Dean’s tongue to explore it. Castiel returned the kiss with the same passion as Dean, his left hand angling Dean’s head while Dean explored the angel’s body: grabbing, pulling, feeling him.

“Cas, man, touch me. Please, touch me.”

Dean wanted Castiel to touch him, he wanted those reverent touches back. Castiel then pressed Dean against the tiled wall, his hands held Dean’s neck while his mouth kissed his throat, made their way down Dean’s chest, contouring the muscles, fingers circling his nipples, mouth still sucking and nibbling Dean’s throat. 

“Down, Cas… Down.”

Dean’s voice was hoarse, his left hand held Castiel’s right hand and travelled them down his body, guiding him to the forming bulge in his boxers. He moaned when he felt Castiel squeezing him, tentative at first, trying to see what would make Dean moan, but it was when he pulled the hunter’s waistband and circled his cock that Castiel felt Dean’s body quiver.

“Please, Cas...”

Castiel then moved his hand up and down, used his thumb to spread precome on Dean’s shaft and noticed how Dean would shiver if he used his thumb to trace the sensitive spot of nerves right below Dean’s cockhead. Castiel’s pace was slow first, and then Dean hooked his right leg on Castiel’s hip, bringing him closer so he could explore the angel’s mouth. Soon, Dean was moaning into Castiel’s mouth and fucking his fist. He felt himself closer to his orgasm, but it was when he felt Castiel’s erection against his hip, realizing that Castiel also wanted him, Dean couldn’t hold back and came into Castiel’s tight fist, moaning the angel’s name.

Castiel took his hand off Dean’s underwear, taking it to his mouth and licking it, Dean couldn’t hold back another moan. He tried to reach for Castiel’s covered erection, but Castiel kissed his way through from Dean’s throat to his earlobe, whispering:

“I want it Dean… Fuck, I really want it, but not now. Today is about you, not about me.”

Before Dean could protest, Castiel kissed him and Dean tasted himself on Castiel’s mouth.

Again, he was manhandled into the water spray and Castiel made him take off his underwear, so he could lather Dean’s body. Dean took the soap from Castiel’s hands and returned the gesture, lathering the angel’s body and cleaning themselves.

They left the shower and Castiel grabbed a towel to dry Dean and then used the same towel to dry himself. Dean noticed that Castiel had no underwear to wear and made the angel wrap himself with the towel and grabbed another towel from the stack to wrap himself too, leaving behind the pair of boxers and the t-shirt that Castiel had sorted for him.

They left the bathroom and walked back to Dean’s bedroom, where Dean threw the towel away and walked to his bed, sitting and waiting for Castiel to do the same. When he saw the angel leaving the towel aside and walking to join Dean on his bed, the hunter felt something on his chest. It was good, it was warm and it wasn’t new, but for the first time in years he allowed himself to feel it.

Castiel laid him down on his bed, pulling him closer to his body; chests, hips and legs were touching; fingers were intertwined and Castiel was peppering Dean’s face with kisses. They stayed like this until Dean fell asleep, safe in Castiel’s arms.


End file.
